


The Tomato Sandwich Incident

by AgentMalkere



Series: One Word to Change the World [30]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Gen, Humor, chaos gives Lahar hives, the Council does something useful for once, the three o'clock bar brawl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-16 03:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10562766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentMalkere/pseuds/AgentMalkere
Summary: “Master, these two gentlemen from the Council are here to talk with you, and they’ve promised that they’re not arresting anyone,” Mirajane beamed.“Oh, have they now?”





	

Doranbolt wished he could have seen Magnolia before a dark guild had tried to burn it to the ground.  It must have been beautiful.  It was still beautiful underneath the charring and the rubble, and some areas were far less damaged than others.  The only building that seemed to have been left wholly undamaged was Fairy Tail’s guildhall.  The madman, Ivan Dreyar, had apparently intended to keep it as a trophy.  Now it acted as a temporary hospital for the wizards who had been severely injured during the battle.  If it hadn’t been for the wizards of Fairy Tail, hundreds of people would have been killed and Magnolia would have been leveled.  The Council was in their debt.  

Next to Doranbolt, Lahar was making tight, unhappy faces.  Disorganization and chaos gave him hives, and Fairy Tail was nothing if not notoriously chaotic.  He hadn’t been complaining – because Lahar _never_ complained about orders – but Doranbolt could tell that his friend was deeply unhappy about this.

“Cheer up,” Doranbolt gave Lahar’s shoulder a light bump.  “I’ll do all the talking.  You can just stand there and look disapproving.”

Lahar didn’t exactly glare at him, but it was close.

“I do not have to approve of their methods to appreciate what they have done,” he muttered under his breath.  Doranbolt resisted the urge to roll his eyes and pushed open the guildhall’s massive doors.

The inside of the building was much lighter and airier than Doranbolt had expected.  Much more cheerful, too.  Most of the wizards were sporting bandages or casts of some sort even a little more than a week after the fight.  Doranbolt recognized most of their faces from the files that the Council kept on all of them.  There were Erza Scarlet and Ultear Milkovich over by the bar.  Jellal Fernandes was leaning against a pillar reading a book.  Natsu Dragneel was wildly gesticulating on top of a table despite his heavily bandaged chest while others egged him on and a blonde girl tried to drag him down.  Mirajane Strauss was serving drinks.  Erik Zmeya was sitting at a table off to one side with his flying serpent and drinking something suspicious looking.  It was like a who’s who of Fiore’s most dangerous and destructive wizards. 

Silence fell as the guild members noticed the newcomers.

“If you’re here to try and arrested Jellal again,” somebody called, “Erza’s probably gonna break out her purgatory armor.”  The expressions on everyone’s faces indicated that they’d also hold them down for her.

Doranbolt blanched slightly.  He’d read about that armor.

“No, no!  We’re not here to arrest anybody!  We came to speak to Master Makarov,” Doranbolt grinned and waved his arms desperately in a very undignified manner.  The murder in the air abruptly vanished.

“Oh, he’s upstairs!”  Mirajane appeared smiling in front of them with a speed that even Doranbolt found impressive.  “I’ll just take you up now.”

“Thank you.”

Upstairs was where the injured were being kept.  There were more faces Doranbolt recognized.  Freed Justine was sitting on the edge of a cot stiffly pulling on a jacket.  Elfman Strauss was sitting up eating a meal.  Juvia Lockster was bandaged up to the neck and appeared to be asleep.  On the next cot over from hers, Gajeel Redfox also appeared to be asleep and still had a line for fluids and medicine connected to his arm.  Levy McGarden, team leader of Shadow Gear and on record as the one wizard from Fairy Tail whom the Council desperately wanted to recruit, was sitting in a chair next to him reading.  Those were just the people who Doranbolt remembered the name of.  He recognized more.  There were at least fifteen occupied beds.

Master Makarov Dreyar wasn’t in one of the beds – he was drifting from cot to cot, checking on how his people were doing.  There was a fading but ugly bruise on his forehead.  A girl with long blue pigtails was also circulating between the cots.  She stopped and had a quiet word with Levy before she held her hands over Gajeel and….

Was that _healing magic?!?_

“Master, these two gentlemen from the Council are here to talk with you, and they’ve promised that they’re not arresting anyone,” Mirajane beamed. 

“Oh, have they now?”  The master’s smile looked friendly but there was also something vaguely menacing about it.  “Well then, why don’t you two young men come with me, and we can talk in my office.” 

The large window in Makarov’s office had an excellent view of the horizon and the… pool?  They had a pool behind their guild?

“Now, gentlemen,” Makarov began, settling behind his desk which was buried beneath a truly horrific amount of paperwork, “what can I do for you?”

“Actually, the real question is, what can we do for you?”  Doranbolt gave a formal bow from the waist as did Lahar.  “Without your guild’s quick and decisive action, many lives would have been lost, and Magnolia would have been destroyed.  Our forces were too slow to mobilize even after the warning you sent us.  In short, the Magic Council is in your debt, and they have sent us to begin making reparations.”

Doranbolt sensed more than saw Lahar’s eye twitch at this and kicked him sharply in the ankle without looking.

Makarov’s expression was far off.

“What, exactly, sort of ‘reparations’ did they have in mind?” he asked.

“Well, to start with we brought two of the Council’s disaster relief squads who specialize in repair and construction magic.  And the Council has agreed to settle a sum of money on your guild since they realize that many of your wizards are unable to work due to injuries received while stopping the dark guild, Raven Tail.”  Doranbolt hesitated and then continued, “They are also willing to expunge some of the damage claims currently filed against Fairy Tail.”

Makarov looked positively gleefully.

“Yes, I would say that was quite generous of the Magic Council considering they originally discounted Raven Tail as a threat.”

Doranbolt shifted uncomfortably.

“Yes… our methods of threat analysis are being… investigated.”  Nobody was happy with that massive error in judgement.  It had made the Council look incredibly bad and was one of the reasons for the unusual levels of generosity.  The Magic Council had to save face somehow.  They were incredibly lucky that no one from Fairy Tail had been killed as a result of their poor judgement.

“Well, that’s some of the best news we’ve had in a while,” Makarov beamed.  “Why don’t you two come downstairs and have a meal on the house.  Messengers of such good news deserve a reward.”

Doranbolt ignored Lahar’s pointed glance and nodded.

“Thank you – we would be honored.”

Lahar was probably going to murder him once they got out of here, but Doranbolt didn’t really care.  He was hungry.

Makarov got up and opened his office door.

“Wendy, why don’t you take a break, and take these two nice young men, who just told me the Council is giving us money, downstairs for something to eat?”

The girl with the blue pigtails looked up.  She looked tired but determined.

“But, Master, I still-”

“Take a break, child, and replenish your magic.”

“Yes, running yourself ragged isn’t going to help anybody,” added a small white… talking cat.  That was different.  “Go eat something.  I’ll keep an eye on things up here.  We don’t have any extra beds if you collapse.”

“Yes, Charle.”  She smiled up at them as she walked over.  “I’m Wendy.  It’s nice to meet you.” 

“I’m Doranbolt, and this is my friend, Lahar.”  Doranbolt smiled at her.  He’d always been kind of fond of kids.

Wendy eyed Lahar.

“Yes, we’ve met.”                                          

When would she have-?  Oh, the last time the Council had failed to send aid in time.  Lahar had been leading the company.  For some reason, in his wisdom, Lahar had attempted to arrest Erik Zmeya along with the dark wizards.  Doranbolt had no idea what had possessed him to try something so stupid.  It hadn’t gone well from what he’d been told.  Lahar was very good at making bad first impressions.  And second impressions.  Thinking about it, it was rather surprising that they had managed to become friends.

Either way, the tension in the air was getting uncomfortable.

“Was that healing magic I saw you using earlier?” 

Wendy’s expression brighten, and she started to lead them towards the stairs.

“Yes.  I’m a sky dragon slayer – it’s one of my specialties!”  Doranbolt’s stride faltered slightly.  _Another_ dragon slayer?!  How many was that now in Fairy Tail?  Five?  “I was actually in charge of the evacuation,” she continued, oblivious to Doranbolt’s thoughts.  “I can fight, but I’m the guild’s only healer, and the master asked me to save my magic to help with the wounded.”  She bit her lip.

“That must have been difficult – leaving your friends behind when you knew that they would be in danger.”

Wendy nodded, her eyes downcast.  

“But he was right.  If I hadn’t saved my magic, Gajeel, Cana, Max, and Lyon would be dead.  Gajeel nearly died anyway.”

She had saved four people from fatal injuries?  Just how powerful was this kid?

“Well, you may not have been able to fight beside them, but it sounds like you did a good job of protecting your friends anyway.”

Wendy brighten.

“I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“The strongest wizard can die from a wound just as easily as the weakest without a good healer watching over them.”

Wendy smiled.

When they reached the ground floor, Doranbolt was surprised to find one of Fairy Tail’s infamous bar fights in full swing despite the fact that most of the wizards participating were still badly injured.  Wendy didn’t even bat an eye.  Doranbolt and Lahar followed as she wove expertly through the seething mass. 

“Are they always like this?”  Doranbolt narrowly ducked a flying chair.

“Oh, no – usually things are much rowdier.  Everybody’s still pretty tired.”

A blast of ice magic skimmed past Lahar’s ear.  His eye was doing that twitching thing again.  Doranbolt wasn’t sure how they made it to the bar unmolested.

“Mira,” Wendy began, “the master said-”

_SMACK!_

A tomato sandwich impacted against the side of Lahar’s face.  It set his glasses askew and splattered spots of red that would definitely stain across his pristine white uniform.  His eye twitched.  Then his entire face spasmed.  Ever so slowly, he pushed his glasses back into their proper place.  Doranbolt vaguely thought that he could see the fires of Hell burning around him.  His entire body was shaking.  Gravity slowly peeled a slice of tomato off his face, and it fell to the ground.

“That is _it!!!_ ”  And Lahar spun around and bodily threw himself into the center of the brawl.  Doranbolt gaped at him. 

He had _never_ – not _once_ – seen Lahar lose his temper.  And now there he was, fists flying, like he mixed it up in bar brawls all the time. 

“There must be something in the air,” he mumbled.  …They were probably going to get fired for this.  Maybe.  Well, Doranbolt probably wouldn’t – Lahar did have more seniority than him which meant that he was supposed to be the more responsible one.  Something about setting an example.  Maybe if they just didn’t mention this part of the trip to their superiors, nobody would care.  The Fairy Tail wizards certainly didn’t seem to mind.  “Um, I don’t suppose I could get one of those tomato sandwiches, could I?” he asked Mirajane hopefully.  Since he was already here, he might as well eat.  And the insides of that sandwich had looked very promising aside from the fact that they had been splatted across Lahar’s face and clothes.

“Of course!”

Across the room, Erik Zmeya noticed a golden opportunity and waded into the fray to exact a little revenge.  He managed to get in a solid right hook to Lahar’s cheek and then waded out again, satisfied.  Lahar broke a chair over someone’s head, but since that person had transformed their hair into stone, it didn’t make much difference.

There was the click of a plate, barely audible over the din.  Doranbolt turned to find the most delicious looking tomato sandwich he had ever seen sitting by his elbow.  It was gently toasted and smelled of basil.  Wendy was watching Lahar with concern.

“Is… he alright?”

“Oh, most certainly not, but he’s been wound tighter than a corkscrew since I met him, so maybe this will help.”

Doranbolt sat back to enjoy his sandwich and the in-house entertainment.

This was definitely going to make for some _excellent_ blackmail material.

**Author's Note:**

> In my heart of hearts, Lahar was a juvenile delinquent.


End file.
